


Supplies

by Suryaofvulcan



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-13
Updated: 2008-03-13
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8092411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suryaofvulcan/pseuds/Suryaofvulcan
Summary: Ever wondered how all that food gets aboard Enterprise?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: A/N: Slashgang Weekend Challenge fic. Story to include a movie or quote from a movie, a piece of fruit (not pineapple), an animal (not Porthos), a household appliance and a cultural misunderstanding. First line: â€œI swear, Capâ€™n, it wasnâ€™t my fault this time.â€ I did actually write this during the weekend - I just havenâ€™t had the chance to type it up until now. The â€˜animalâ€™ appears courtesy of Douglas Adams. I think this is the first time Iâ€™ve written a story in 3rd person omniscient POV.  


* * *

â€œI swear, Capâ€™n, it wasnâ€™t my fault this time!â€ Commander Charles â€˜Tripâ€™ Tucker peered at his captain over the top of a precariously balanced stack of crates.

Captain Jonathan Archer simply growled at him as foul-smelling goop dribbled slowly down his face and the front of his uniform, - the result of the topmost carton of squishy tala fruit falling off the stack and upending itself over his head. A solitary drip of juice hung from the end of his nose.

â€œI apologise, Captain!â€ said Furkan, the little goblin-faced Felisian trader. He dabbed ineffectually at Archerâ€™s sleeve with an oversized yellow handkerchief, but he only succeeded in rubbing the juice into the fabric. Then he bowed swiftly and hurried away, directing a torrent of angry Felisian at the two young men who were manoeuvring their supplies into the transport platform.

Archer slowly raised a hand and wiped the sticky residue off his face. â€œReally, Trip? Youâ€™re sure you and Malcolm werenâ€™t playing catch again?â€ he said in acid tones. 

Tucker shuffled his feet and looked at the floor, and Lieutenant Malcolm Reed blushed bright red as he appeared around the other side of the crates, looking slightly dishevelled.

â€œNo,â€ Archer amended, glancing from one to the other, â€œon second thoughts, I donâ€™t want to know.â€

It was the second mishap to befall Archer that day - the first time, Tucker had been tossing a melon-like object towards Reed, but had managed to hit Archer forcefully in the stomach instead.

â€œI know Chefâ€™s anxious to get our fresh supplies on board and into stasis, but whatâ€™s he planning to do with all this?â€ Archer gestured towards the crates.

â€œEr - I believe heâ€™s thinking of fermenting it, sir.â€ Reed was rapidly regaining his composure. â€œI think I heard him say it would make a passable wine.â€

â€œI thought he was gonna make some kinda preserve?â€ Tucker mused.

Reed shrugged. â€œI may have misheard.â€

â€œBut it smells like â€¦ rotting meat.â€ Archer crinkled his nose in distaste.

â€œI believe itâ€™s something like our own durian fruit, sir, from Malaysia,â€ Reed supplied. â€œThe smell - and the taste - will change once itâ€™s cooked.â€

â€œAnd in the meantime, how is he planning to store it?â€

Tucker scratched his head. â€œUm â€¦ I might have some hermetically sealed containers in the cargo bay.â€

Archer turned to Ensign Travis Mayweather, who had been standing behind the captain, hiding a smirk. â€œWell, I suppose Iâ€™d better go and get _another_ clean uniform. Travis, get them to stow some of the supplies - not those crates! - in the shuttlepod, and weâ€™ll head back up to the ship.â€

â€œAye, sir.â€ Mayweather rolled his eyes at Reed and Tucker, and then strolled away in the direction of the launch bay.

â€œCan I trust you two to supervise this on your own?â€ Archerâ€™s voice carried a warning note. â€œChef and the quartermaster are counting on us.â€

â€œAye, sir. No problem,â€ said Tucker.

â€œWhere is Chef?â€ Reed said suddenly, as Archer stalked after Mayweather.

â€œHeâ€™s over there.â€ Tucker gestured towards a nearby stall. â€œSee him? At the stall with the weird-looking kitchen appliances. At least I _think_ theyâ€™re kitchen appliances. Is that an egg whisk heâ€™s holding?â€

Reed craned his neck. â€œIt looks more like some kind of medieval torture device.â€

Ensign Hoshi Sato hurried towards them, entering data into a padd. A piece of her hair had worked loose from her ponytail and hung down the side of her face. â€œHave you seen Furkan? Iâ€™m really not sure he understands about some of the things Chef specified.â€

â€œLike what?â€ Tucker said.

â€œLike this _mnimu_. Chef said he wanted some fresh meat, but this translates as â€˜food animalâ€™. I want to make sure weâ€™re getting the right thing.â€

â€œWell, the Felisians supply a lot of different ships. Iâ€™m sure Furkan knows what heâ€™s doing,â€ Reed supplied.

â€œAll the same, Iâ€™d like to find him and check it out.â€

â€œHe went this way,â€ Tucker gestured towards the other side of the market. The three of them made their way through the crates and boxes, following the direction Furkan had taken. At last they spotted him in the distance.

â€œFurkan!â€ Sato called.

He turned and hurried towards them. â€œAh, what can I do for you, beloved Ensign Sato?â€

â€œThank you, beloved Furkan,â€ she followed his formal mode of address. She showed him the padd. â€œCan you tell me more about the fresh meat - the _mnimu_? What kind of animal is it?â€

â€œAh, come, come, beloved guests. I will show you.â€

They followed Furkan through the busy marketplace, keeping their eyes on his red bonnet as he wove rapidly between the stalls. They walked past various merchants displaying everything from spices to motor oil, until they finally reached what appeared to be the livestock pen.

â€œ _Mnimu_ ,â€ Furkan said, gesturing inside. â€œHere is _mnimu_.â€

They peered over the edge of the pen. Inside they saw a large animal with mottled blue skin and a small upturned snout. It appeared to be lying on something like a low day-bed and munching steadily on a long strip of green vegetable matter.

â€œWhat the hell is that?â€ Tucker whispered.

The creatureâ€™s eyes blinked open. â€œI am _mnimu_ ,â€ it said in a solemn, sonorous voice.

â€œJesus!â€ Tucker jumped back. Reed grimaced, and Sato took a small step back from the pen too.

â€œBeloved Furkan,â€ Sato said, swallowing visibly, â€œwhy did you show us this creature?â€

â€œIt is _mnimu_. Meat. Our food.â€ He glanced from one to the other, smiling hopefully.

â€œBut it can talk.â€

â€œOf course I can talk,â€ the creature said. â€œHow else would I give my consent to be eaten?â€

â€œYou â€¦ what?â€ The colour drained from Reedâ€™s face.

â€œIt would be unethical to kill an animal that had not given its consent,â€ Furkan said. â€œIs it not so on your world?â€

â€œEr, well, no,â€ Tucker stammered.

â€œWe donâ€™t generally eat animals that can talk back to us,â€ Reed managed. â€œItâ€™s a bit too â€¦ personal.â€

â€œWe Felisians believe it is good to have a personal relationship with our food,â€ Furkan assured them happily.

â€œI am a particularly fine specimen, if I say so myself,â€ the _mnimu_ interjected. â€œMy flank would provide any number of juicy steaks. And my liver is particularly succulent. Perhaps youâ€™d enjoy it sautÃ©ed, or made into a patÃ©?â€

â€œYeah, washed down with a nice Chianti,â€ Tucker muttered, turning slightly green.

â€œYou think as we do, beloved Commander.â€ Furkan grinned and slapped him heartily on the back.

â€œNo! No, I didnâ€™t mean â€¦â€

â€œBeloved Furkan,â€ Sato interjected quickly, â€œas much as we respect your customs, Iâ€™m afraid we would not know how to care for the _mnimu_ properly. We have no means on our ship to feed him, and no place for him to live. I regret weâ€™ll have to decline your kind offer on this occasion. Iâ€™m sorry for the misunderstanding.â€

â€œThere is no insult, beloved Ensign Sato,â€ Furkan replied with a small bow. â€œPerhaps we can supply you with additional fruits and vegetables instead?â€

â€œIâ€™m sure that would be agreeable.â€ Sato glanced at Tucker and Reed, a sly smile on her lips. â€œSomehow, I donâ€™t think these two will be eating meat for a while.â€

 

~end~


End file.
